


The sky above you

by its_ayy_jayy



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Horror, Human Experimentation, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Multiple, Partners in Crime, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-08-10 07:09:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20131378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_ayy_jayy/pseuds/its_ayy_jayy
Summary: Alternate set of events in ep22s1When he had woken up that morning Oswald was expecting this to be the day he finally took over Gotham but, as the dark waters that bathed Gotham quickly approached, it was turning up to be the last.





	1. Chapter one - Oswald

**Author's Note:**

> I just finished rewatching season one and this idea sparkled in my head. I don't know if anyone would be interested in reading

**Oswald**

Fast.

When he had woken up that morning Oswald was expecting this to be the day he finally became the king of Gotham but, as the dark waters of the cold ocean that bathed Gotham quickly approached, it was turning up to be the last.

And it was all Jim's fault. Sure, Fish had been the one to push him off of the rooftop but if only Jim had let him kill Falcone when he had the chance then he wouldn't be in this situation. He should never have begged for the detective's life. 

He wasn't his friend, he wasn't even his enemy. Jim just saw Oswald as another criminal. Nothing more than Fish Mooney's eternal umbrella boy. 

The irony would be funny if it wasn't so tragic. Less than a hour earlier he told Carmine he would be burning in hell and now Oswald had a one way ticket there. Perhaps that had always been his destiny seeing how Jim spared him from a bullet.

Now he was just looking for excuses. The fall was the worst part. It felt like years passed as the wind screamed into his his ears. At first he had screamed as well but he wouldn't give Fish the satisfaction. In his last moments, his mother came to his mind. She would be devastated and would certainly be the only cry rivers for him. She would be the only one to cry for him in fact, but that was fine. He didn't need anyone else. He didn't care about anyone else. 

He only needed her love. Hopefully someone else would take care of her now that he was gone.

The last thing that ran through his mind was how he wished he was a bird like everyone seemed to compare him to. Perhaps then he would be able to just spread his wings although, as he was very aware, penguins couldn't fly.

The water was cold and dark.

**...**

_"Alright, class," the teacher spoke and the turmoil of voices slowly died down as all the fourth graders looked at the woman, "today we will be talking about professions. All of us will work someday and everyone should aim to have their perfect job. Would any of you like to talk about it?"_

_A blonde girl immediately lifted her hand. The teacher smiled and pointed at her. "Cindy?"_

_"I want to be the president someday." The little girl replied with a confident smirk._

_"Oh? And why is that?" The teacher kept her plastic smile._

_"Because I like to order people and I'm really good at it. Plus, I'm very good at it. I think I could make the country a better place." _

_"That's very nice, Cindy. I'm sure you would be a great president. Max?" A brunette boy wearing big round glasses adjusted them on the bridge of his nose before speaking up._

_"I would like to be a therapist like my mother. I want to revolutionize this area." He replied eloquently. _

_The woman nodded and some kids whispered among themselves. Some laughed. Max seemed bothered by that. "It's a very nice dream, Max. I'm sure your mother would be proud," she looked at the two boys laughing in the back, "what about you two, Buff, Hank? What would you like to be?"_

_"I wanna be a cop to beat up the bad guys and be a hero." Hank replied loudly. Some of the girls smiled and chuckled at him. "What? It's a nice dream. Better than the nerd's." He huffed._

_"You are more like a criminal, Hank. Or a very stupid security guard." Cindy said and the other kids laughed._

_"Maybe he could be the coffee guy." Max suggested and more kids laughed._

_"Now, now, children. It's still a nice dream." The teacher interjected upon seeing how embarassed and red the boy was. "Buff?"_

_The ginger boy next to Hank smirked and leaned forward with a smirk. He was silent for a moment before finally shooting. "A hot dog." The kids barked out laughing and the teacher rolled her eyes._

_Oswald had been scribbling in his notebook. He was a quiet boy who hardly ever spoke unless he was spoken to. He only began paying attention once his name was called after the third time. "Oswald!" The teacher shouted causing him to jump and quickly cover his notebook._

_"Yes miss Karen?" He looked up at her._

_"It's Carol, Oswald, and what would you like to be once you grow up?" She said a little annoyed. He looked around as all other kids looked at him with curiosity._

_His mouth hung open for a moment as he failed to find an answer. "I- I want to be-"_

Oswald woke up.

If this was how death felt like he understood why people tried to avoid it so much. His head throbbed like the worst hangover he had ever had mixed with a dizziness and a burning sensation in his entire body. The man slowly opened his eyes and blinked a few times to adjust to the light.

His ceiling was white. That was the first thing he noticed. The second one was the silence. There wasn't a single sound save for his own heartbeat and shuffling. With a groan, he managed to sit up and looked around. Not only the ceilings were write, the entire room was. The walls, the floor, the bed, the sink and the small toilet. It was a small room, perhaps more like a cell with a single white door with a small window and an opening from where food came through. 

Even his clothes had been changed into a white shirt and pants that, although comfortable definitely didn't match his style. Luckily they had left him with a black although heavy coat made of feathers. 

Despite his back's protest, Oswald stood up and limped to the sink. Once the tap was on, he threw some water on his pale freckled face before looking in the lonely mirror. The bags under his light blue eyes were bigger than they had ever been. He looked like a ghost as his already milky white skin looked somehow even whiter. His feathery black hair was messy and partially fell over his eyes giving him an even more goth look than usual specially when complemented with his now purple lips.

Great.

Oswald looked down and sighed. So he wasn't dead. Sometimes his luck surprised even himself. He could tell he was in some hospital. He limped to the door and tried to open it. Locked. Even greater. He tried to knock and scream for help but even such a simple task was enough to make him tired. He sat down with his back against the door and waited.

But nobody came.

Oswald wasn't sure how long passed but he ended up falling asleep. The coat was more comfortable than he had given it credit for and seemed to be the only source of heat in the cold cell. That was what it was. A cell. He might have been saved but he was not free. 

He tried to stand up again, now somehow weaker than before, the coat was definitely starting to weight down. Oswald was also starving. He had no idea if they would even feed him but he did have water at the very least. He decided to drink some from the tap to trick his stomach. Once he was done he looked at the mirror again but this time he focused on the coat. It was beautiful and very obviously made of real feathers. He ran a hand over the soft blackness before pushing it off of both of his shoulders. It partially hang from his back still. Did it get caught in his pant? Oswald pulled on it again, harsher this time, and felt a sudden pain coming from his back. What the hell? Confused, the man removed his shirt and turned around.

Oh.

His eyes went wide in pure shock and his jaw dropped as he looked into the mirror. The black feathers weren't part of an overcoat as he had thought but rather they seemed to grow from his back close to his shoulders. They were wings. A pair of fluffy black wings.

Yep, he was dead. This was just a dream before he died. His body was probably aready resting against the seafloor. There was no way this was real. True, Gotham wasn't the most normal place around but people didn't just grow wings. He turned around and laid down on the bed like any sane person would do and closed his eyes. Just a dream. He couldn't wait to never wake up.

Except he did wake up again, not on his own though. He heard the sound of metal against metal and jolted awake. That was certainly a huge difference from the usual silence. 

Oswald sat up and looked at the door in time to see a shadow deposit a tray with food and turn around. "Wait!" He shouted and ran to thr door. "My name is Oswald Cobblepot! I work for Don Falcone! You need to get me out of here, wait!" He shouted desperately but the figure was already gone into the white corridor. He let out a cry of anger before punching the door with all strength he had left. If he wasn't famished he would have thrown the tray against the wall but instead he settled to angrily eating the meatloaf that had been offered. His only cutlery was a plastic spork that broke under his angry hands. Right about that point he felt like crying in rage but fought against it. He would not give these people the luxury of seeing him cry. He would not let them break him. Oswald Cobblepot would find a way to escape the place and take revenge on all the people that wished for his demise starting with Jim Gordon and Fish Mooney.

He would rise again stronger than before.

**...**

Time passed. How much exactly he wasn't sure, but probably a few weeks if they would deliver him food three times a day but it had felt like years. The silence, first just another detail, was now excruciating. He carved for any interaction from another being even if it were to be the look of disdain from his captors but they didn't even grant him that. Their expressions were empty and a part of him couldn't help but wonder if they were in reality just robots wearing the skin of a person.

He was forced to find a hobby, something that could potentially help him escape and he found that in his wings. First he tried to move them by arching his back back and forth. They moved but were still limp. He did that several times a day while also massaging the tendons and manually making them move. It took some time but eventually he learned how to flap his wings. Sure, they were still wobbly but he liked to thing it was a step in the right direction. He could be a patient man when he wanted or needed.

He still had no idea how they had appeared or why but this was no time to ask questions. He had to use all that he could. 

The next step was to try and learn how to fly or at least jump higher. There wasn't much space for him to try but he had to make do with what he had. Despite the loud noises caused by the falls no one seemed to really care. 

He wondered if they would even notice if he died.

With each fall came a new bruise but Oswald was starting to get really good at it. Of course, all of that movement was a lot for his bad leg and there were days he couldn't even get out of bed from all that pain. But that was fine. It was working. Slowly but surely he could go higher and higher.

One day, after many tries and errors, he finally reached the ceiling. 

The pads of his fingers gently touched the surface making the man smile. Finally. He was finally closer to escaping. Now he just needed a way out of that cell.

His accomplishment was cut short and his smile faltered as gravity pulled him down and the wings no longer had enough strength to keep him up high. With a scream, the man fell down. By far that had been his worst fall yet, bad enough to send him uncounscious upon hearing a loud crack.

**...**

_"You are a good boy, Oswald. Too good for other kids. It's ok if you don't want to play with them. Mother will play with you instead."_

**...**

Water? Why the hell was water falling on his face? Oswald quickly wiped his face before opening his eyes. The sink above him partially broken. Where once was a tap was now something more similar to a fountain splashing water all over the room. That hadn't been the only damage as his bed was now partially on the floor since of of the cables keeping it on the wall burst. He checked if he had broken anything, much for his annoyance he had sprained his wrist. 

"Look, sir. He has been doing it for weeks and he finally managed to break everything. You can't just let him do what he wants like that!" Oswald looked through the window on the door to see the usual guy who delivered him food talking to a much older bald man with a goatee. His round glasses appeared to nearly glow under the faint lighting. There was something about his gaze that made Oswald shiver. In a way, it was as cold as Fish's but at least with her he knew that as long as he was loyal and useful she would treat him well enough. This man didn't look at Oswald like he was a human being but rather just an object. At most a lab rat. 

"Take him to a cell upstairs for now and make sure no guards have access to him but make sure you run some exams first. If he ever tries anything like this again break both of his legs." The bald man said and turned around not caring about how horrified Oswald clearly was. 

"Yes sir." The assistant said before opening the door. Oswald tried to get on his feet to try to escape no matter who or how many he had to kill in the process but before he could even stand he was shot in the neck with what he could only assume was a tranquilizer. 

Fantastic. Back to the world of unconsciousness.

**...**

Oswald didn't have any dreams this time around and he wasn't in nearly as much pain. That was an improvement he supposed. His clothes were different, apparently someone had changed the comfortable pure white pajamas to striped dirty clothes that itched a concerning amount. In fact, that could be a good metaphor to his entire new cell. While the other one was freakishly clean this one stunk a mixture of feeces, piss and sweat. Certainly not a good combination. He no longer had a sink nor a mirror and his toilet could barely be called that. In fact, roach nest was probably a more fitting name.

There was also the screaming. Or was it laughter? Perhaps both. Probably both. He wasn't sure whether that was worse than the silence but he knew one thing for a fact: Despite everything wrong with this cell he preferred it one million times over the other one for this cell had an actual window in it. Sure, it was small, he probably could just pass an arm through it, and impossible to open but it also allowed him to see the sky. It even let him see the familiar silhouette of his beloved city.

He was home. He was in Gotham.

Oswald pressed his right hand against the cold glass before doing the same with his forehead. He closed his eyes to try and stop the tears and sobs but they were determined. He sniffled a few times and even hiccuped through a grimace. Sure, his body still hurt and he was still locked up. Yes, someone had used him as some sort of guinea pig and he wasn't even sure he was human anymore.

But he was home and right now that was all he needed. This was his hope. 

As much as he would have liked to just stay there and cry his moment was interrupted by a faint laughter coming from the cell next to his. 

"My oh my. It looks like we have a new neighbor." The voice chuckled and Oswald searched for its source: a small grind on the wall about the size of the window. It was so small and irrelevant that he hadn't even noticed it. Oswald got on his knees and tried to look through it only to be met with someone staring back. The man had dark brown eyes the same color of his hair which was longer than Oswald's. Like the smaller man, his skin could definitely use some sun but he lacked the freckles. His grin was big enough to fit all of his teeth and he looked at Oswald like a child looked at a gift about to be unwrapped. "Hi there. What is black, white and red in the middle?"


	2. Chapter two- Edward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 and people are already dying. Yep. This will be a gruesome fic

** Edward **

_What is black, white and red in the middle?_

Perhaps framing Jim Gordon for the hadn't been the best idea, but again, there weren't that many books out there on what to do when you kill your girlfriend and her ex boyfriend. Maybe he could try writing one.

No, his actions had been a shot in the dark, a gamble that Edward Nygma ultimately lost and now he had to pay the price: Arkham. The looney bin. That was where they wanted him to rot but Ed wasn't one to give up this easily. He would get out and take revenge on Jim Gordon, Harvey Bullock and anyone else who dared to oppose him.

He just needed to figure out how. 

The first two months in Arkham had been excruciatingly boring. For the longest time his cell was quite far from any other inmates, not that it mattered so much. He tried to escape a few times but somehow they always managed to find him and return the man to his cell. How embarrassing.

Most people in there were beyond able to hold a conversation and the few who were capable of it really weren't worth talking to. Worse yet, even the other's voice quieted down thanks to the doctor's attempts to cure him. He could still see him of course. The other was constantly there, a silent figure watching and judging him. Sure, that should be a good thing but now he was starting to feel extremely lonely and guilt burned within his heart. He hadn't meant to kill Kristen. She was a good woman, more importantly he really did love her.

Edward had been staring at the ceiling and thinking about life, a practice that had become very common to him as of late, when he heard the door to the cell next to him open. The sound was loud enough to be coming from within his own cell which wasn't good. If his new neighbor snored Ed would lose the ability to sleep. 

At first, he wasn't so interested in his neighbor. He was quiet and rarely ever received any visit from the doctors which was strange. Even more odd was the fact he seemed to never leave his cell. He never talked, hell, Edward couldn't even hear him walk! Had they brought a dead man to be his neighbor?

Eventually curiosity got the best of him. At first he tried to speak to him, nothing. He tried to be annoying and even threaten the guy but nothing seemed to work. It didn't take long for him to find the grid connecting their cells, it had been his by his bed but gave a good enough view of the other cell for him to see his neighbor. 

The other man was of short stature. He was thin and pale like a cadaver which led Ed to believe his theory had been correct until he noticed the barely noticeable movement of his lungs. Ok, so he was alive. He just slept a lot. Maybe the doctors were doing this? Maybe this guy was simply THAT dangerous or maybe there was something else about him.

The next thing he noticed was what he thought was a blanket made out of black feathers that didn't belong to any bird species Ed had heard of. The odd little man stirred causing a part of the blanket to fall. Except it wasn't a blanket. It was a wing. Edward's eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. No. He was seeing things, he had to be! There was no way this was real. He tried to throw some of the dirty cold water in his face before looking again. Could he actually have gone insane? Those were definitely wings growing from the man's back. He could even see where it connected to the rest of his body underneath his shirt. With a deep breath he reached through the grid to touch one of the feathes. It was soft. He glanced at the man again before deciding to pluck one of the feathers out. He knew the risks. Whatever that guy was he could wake up and attack but the scientist in Edward spoke louder.

The little man barely reacted besides a small shake of his wings. With a smile, Edward brought the feather close to his face and analyzed it. "Fascinating." He whispered to himself. The feather reminded him of the feather from a mute swan but with a darker color and longer. He wished he still had access to a lab so that he could uncover all the mysteries of this little feather.

He looked over at its owner with a big smile. This man hadn't even woken up yet and he was already more fascinating than any of the other inmates. Perhaps he would be able to actually see his face soon.

**...**

Two days later the man woke up. Edward was still staring at the feather when he heard shuffling coming from the other cell and immediately went over to see what was happening.

As soon as he saw the man's freckled face he immediately recognized him. Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot, a man that in a matter of months went from being Fish Mooney's umbrella boy to nearly taking Gotham for himself. He had heard Jim talk about him to Bullock specially after his demise. 

It seemed like the detective almost regretted letting Oswald die. He almost felt sad about it. A crazy man may even think he somewhat missed the guy.

And yet, here he was. Alive, kicking, and looking straight into Edward's eyes. 

They stared at eachother for a few minutes, Oswald had confused but cautious squinted eyes while Edward couldn't help but smile excitedly. "What?" Oswald asked.

"Newspaper. The answer to what is black, white and red in the middle is newspaper." Edward replied with a chuckle. He hadn't been this excited in a long time.

Oswald opened his mouth but no sound came out for a long time. "Sorry, do I know you?"

"Actually, you do. We met once in the GCPD when you came to invite Jim to your nightclub although you didn't have wings then. My name is Edward Nygma." Ed didn't mind that Oswald didn't remember him. He still offered him a hand to be shaken through the grid.

Oswald stared at it for a moment before reluctantly shaking it. His hand was warm. 

"How did you get wings? And how did you survive? Everyone in Gotham thought you were dead for months." Oswald was clearly not pleased with all the questions and tried to pull his hand away but Edward gripped it tightly. The smaller male looked between their hands and Edward's eyes. Yes, he was trying to be friendly but he was also determined. He wasn't going anywhere until his answers had been answere.

"I don't know!" Oswald barked out annoyed and continued to try to pull his hand. "The last thing I remember is plunging to my death and then I woke up in a cell with these stupid things!"

Edward blinked. "So you don't like them?"

"Of course not! I already have a bad leg to make locomotion harder, I don't need a pair of feathery burdens weighting me down as well. Where are we?" Oswald grumbled.

Edward thought for a moment but it didn't seem like the other was lying. He should answer truthfully. "Arkham. I was sent here after a cop and my-"

"Sorry, but I REALLY don't care. Now let go of my hand!" Oswald demanded and interrupted Edward. How rude. But again, he learned that about him in their first encounter. 

"Well, you should care. I assume you want to get out of here and I am your best bet, mister Cobblepot." Edward let go of his hand.

Oswald rubbed the area Ed had squeezed after sitting up. "Right. Right. Because I definitely need the help of some crazy guy to escape. No offense, but the day I need the help of someone like you is the day I stop being Oswald Cobblepot."

Edward huffed and sat up as well. "You may want to reconsider. I'm not only the smartest man in this prison but the smartest man in all of Gotham if I may say so myself. Plus, I'm not crazy. I was wrongly put into this hell."

Oswald scoffed. "Well, isn't that what anyone in your position would say?" He pursed his lips.

Edward opened his mouth to counter and then closed it. "Perhaps it is. But in my case it is true. I nearly managed to get Jim Gordon arrested instead of me."

Oswald stood up and groaned. "Well, good for you Edwin."

"Edward." He corrected him.

"Whatever. What matters is I don't need nor want your help or of any other lunatic." Oswald returned to his bed.

Edward watched him. His smile was no more. Arrogant asshole. "Well, mister Cobblepot, perhaps we both belong in this place. Just think about it."

"I assure you, Edwin, if there is one truth in this world it is that I am not crazy! Not that matters what you think. I'm done talking to you."

And he didn't speak again for the entirety of the following weeks, no matter how much Edward pestered him about it. Something Edward discovered about his roomate quite soon was that he was one hell of a stubborn man. His plans went from trying to bribe the guards to even pretending to be sick. He even refused to eat for a while to try and force one of the guard's hand but nothing seemed to work. Edward couldn't help but be fascinated. Oswald was smart, not in the same aspect as he was, but rather a cunning individual who knew exactly what buttons to push to make people click. He could see how he had gotten so far.

If only the world hadn't stopped caring about the little man.

But Edward cared. He cared quite a bit. It was so amusing to see Oswald do his own thing. He even started rooting for him at some point eventhough it would be way more beneficial for him if Oswald stopped being the stubborn asshole he was and just agreed to work together. There was something charming about Cobblepot, about how he would smile brightly whenever something went right and scream and curse whenever it went wrong. It always managed to make Edward laugh.

Until that night.

Edward looked out of the window. The moon was high and beautiful. He was lucky to he so high up in the facility since he actually had quite a nice view of the sky and Gotham. Oswald had been quiet all day, which wasn't uncommon. There were days he would curse and shake in pain because of his leg unable to move from his spot but somehow he couldn't shake off this eerie feeling he had. "Oswald?" He called out despite knowing the shorter man wouldn't speak to him. 

His heart began beating faster. Reluctantly, he walked to the grid. The only light came from the moon and the only sound in his ears was his own heartbeat.

No.

Oswald hung from the ceiling. Apparently he had managed to reach the lights which were normally too tall for a normal human but for someone like him it hadn't been a problem. Edward could see very clearly. The sheets of his bed had been turned into a rope wrapped tightly around the shorter male's neck. His head had fallen forward and his entire body was limp and covered by his wings as he lingered above the floor.

"N-no." Edward's voice trembled and he fell back. Breathing became hard as his eyes widened with shock. "There is no way." He was no longer in Arkham but back at the small flat he shared with his parents. He was had just arrived home from school and the door was still open from when his dad left to buy more cigarettes. It was nothing unusual. What was odd was how his mother wasn't cooking in the kitchen nor crying in one of the bedrooms. The house was completely silent. He called for his mother and looked around until he noticed the bathroom light was on. With nothing more than curiosity, he opened it.

That was when it all started. He had endured his father's beating and drunken outbursts for so long because he had his mother. She was his everything and now she hung from the ceiling with a rope around her neck. It swung every so slightly creating a sound worse than silence. The worst part was her face though. Her vacant expression and eyes that lacked any light stared at nowhere in particular. The smell wasn't anything he would like to remember either.

Edward was pulled back to the present where he watched a similar scene unfold. This couldn't be happening. Oswald wasn't the type of person who would do this! How didn't he hear it? Did Ed doze off at some point? No, no, no! 

He started to scream. Breathing was nearly impossible as he pulled on his hair and wheezed.

"What the hell is going on here?" For the first time, a guard actually came. 

Edward looked at him with urgency and attempted to say something but english failed him. "Oswald!" Was all he manage to stutter out while looking to the side.

The man looked at the other cell. "What the fuck?" He asked with shock as he opened the door to the Penguin's room and walked in. Ed quickly look through the grid again to watch as the guard approached the tiny man slowly.

Anxiety was killing Ed. "Just do something already!" He yelled and, in cue, Oswald's eyes opened abruptly.

"What the?!" The jumped back just at the Penguin spread his wings revealing another piece of cloth wrapped around his waist. Clever little man. Before the guard had a chance to react, Oswald used his wings to pull him closer while quickly freeing himself. With a battle cry, he fell on the other man and they both went to the floor. 

Oswald didn't let the man fight back as he quickly straddled him and put his hands around his neck. "Die!" The winged man barked as he repeatedly bashed the guards skull against the floor creating a horrible noise. Soon enough his skull shattered leaving a pool of blood, bone and brain matter on the light floor. 

Most people would be sick at the sight but Edward couldn't help but smile in admiration. Oswald had managed to trick even him. He didn't think he would ever get tired of the Penguin.

As the guard stopped moving Oswald sat on top of him panting and partially covered in blood. His soft black wings were now a little stiff and had a red tint to them. After recovering his breath, Oswald searched the man's body for his keys and gun. He even managed to get a knife. With a wince, the man stood up and looked down at his work before laughing. "I did it! I can't believe that actually worked!" He admitted and cackled before sighing and walking to the door.

"Wait, Oswald!" Edward called out. 

Oswald smiled. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Edwin. It seems that you were wrong. I managed to escape without you."

Arguable, Edward thought but didn't say it. He needed to stay in his good side. "Well, you still don't know the geography of this place. You never even left your cell! I know everything, every corner and every roach! You have to take me with you!" 

"I don't have to do anything, Edward." He said with disdain. So he did know Edward's name. 

"Please!" Edward got on his knees. "I'm begging you, Oswald! Help me out and I'll be forever thankful." 

Oswald glanced back at the grid and stayed in place for a moment. "Ugh, fine!" He rolled his eyes before limping out of his cell. He unlocked Ed's door using the keys. "But remember, you owe me! And if the situation requires I will leave you behind as bait."

Edward walked out and took a deep, dramatic breath. Ah, freedom. He looked at Oswald and smiled. "Deal my small feathered friend." He adjusted his glasses and stretched. 

Oswald watched him for a moment before walking ahead. "I'm not waiting for you either!" 

Edward quickly trotted next to him. "I wasn't expecting you to." He whispered cheekily. He was happy and excited like he hadn't been in a long time. He had a feeling this would be the start of something very interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone get the Heathers reference? Comment if you did :3


	3. Chapter three- Oswald

**Oswald**

Things hadn't gone according to plan. Apparently, running around an asylum with nothing but a not very sharp blade and your scrunny cell neighbor hadn't been the best idea. In less than hour, they had somehow attracted all guards to that wing and were now being hunted like animals.

Their luck was that there was an unoccupied supplies closet that no one had thought about looking in yet. Unfortunately, it crammed and his annoying wings made their lack of space the more jarring. "Your elbow is hitting my stomach!" The short brunette hissed as softly as he could without losing credibility. He stirred a little.

"Than maybe try to push your wing away so that I can bring my arm somewhere else!" He retaliated back.

Oswald rolled his eyes. "This isn't gonna work. Someone is going to find us if we just hide here!"

Edward tried to look at him with annoyed brown eyes behind his glasses. "Oh, yeah, and how the hell are we going to escape from the fifth floor?!" He paused as he looked next to Oswald before smiling.

Oswald recognized that smile, it was a grin he would commonly use. "You just had a plan!"

Edward nodded. "I did, but I'm going to need your knife!" He said and began removing his shirt.

Oswald's eyes went wide at the display of nudity. "What the hell are you doing, Nygma?! Wait, why are you taking off your pants too?!" He had heard enough rummors about what happened in prison, specially when you dropped the soap, to know to worry.

Edward rolled his eyes. "Relax, ok? There is a janitor uniform next to you, I'll use it to find us a safe route out of here."

Oswald only relaxed a little. "And how the hell am I going to know that you aren't just abandoning me to leave by yourself?!"

Edward shrugged as he slipped on the shirt. It stunk too much for Oswald's taste. "You won't, that's what trust is all about, right?" He smiled and winked at the smaller brunette. 

Oswald's face grew red as he killed the man with his eyes but didn't say anything. This man was somehow even more annoying than goody two shoes Jim Gordon. 

As Edward was done getting dressed, he opened the door. "Stay here, don't make any sound. I will be back." He promised with nothing but his words and a smile before leaving Oswald alone in the dark.

Oswald wasn't sure how long passed but he decided it was too long. He shouldn't trust Edward, he didn't even know him! And yet, there was something about him oddly charming like a child playing a game.

No matter. He was gone, and now it was up to Oswald to escape on his own. He grabbed a mop, his new weapon, and put a hand ovet the doorknob. He was about to twist it when Edward's words returned to his mind.

_'That's what trust is about, isn't it?'_

Trust didn't get anyone anywhere, he knew this. He had trusted Jim Gordon and he had almost died for it. The only person he could trust was his mother and now she sat somewhere in this monstrous city all alone. Hopefully Fish had enough decency to leave her be and mourn for him. Even so, for some strange reason tht even he couldn't comprehend, he pulled his hand back and sat on the corner while hugging his knees. 

He really was an idiot, wasn't he?

The door burst open. He thought it was his end but, instead, it was Edward. He waved at the brunette and gestured for him to follow. 

Oswald was quick to comply and tag along as Edward led him through a few corridors. They didn't exchange a word. 

Several guards were now laying around dead, most because of their slit throats but a few had been shot through the head. Oswald was impressed. He didn't take Nygma as a killer.

"We are here." Edward announced with a whisper and Oswald turned to meet, not a door, but a window. A big window that led to a big fall.

He blinked a few times. "What the hell do you mean by we are here?! That's a window!" He said a bit more loud than he intended. 

Edward nodded. "Yeah, and you have wings so we don't need a door!"

Oswald's eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. "Are you actually insane?! I've never tried to fly before! We are going to fall for our deaths!" He threw his arms up for emphasis.

As he did, the voices of guards grew closer. Edward looked at him. "Well, I'm out of bullets so it's either trying and maybe ending up falling to our deaths or getting locked up again." Oswald glared at him before looking out of the window. They were very high up but maybe, just maybe, he could fly. Maybe they could escape. "It's really a matter of whether you are a coward or not."

Oswald turned to look at him with pursed lips. "If there is something I am not, Edward, is a coward!" He said before climbing the window and jumping with his wings open. He looked at Edward's shocked face and smiled before closing his eyes.

Just wait and see, Gotham. He may have lost and fallen once, but never again. Like a Phoenix he would crawl back from the ashes and rise up higher than before. This was the Penguin's destiny. This would be his legacy.

He flapped his wings similarly to when he tried to jump higher. The trick part was to find the right momentum but he managed before his body hit the concrete. With a smile bigger than before, Oswald flew up high towards the window once again.

The guards had cornered Ed who was waving his knife frantically like a trapped animal. So he wasn't always that confident, huh? He tapped the inmate's shoulder. Ed turned around to look at him and his jaw dropped along with all the other inmates. "Want a ride?" Oswald teased and offered him his hand.

Edward took his hand and nodded. "You betcha." He stepped out of the window. 

Oswald didn't expect the extra weight, much less to be quickly pulled by gravity. Both man yelled as they fell and the smallest of the two tried his best to remain in the air. "Fly, Oswald! Just fly!" Edward demanded.

Oswald managed to recover height, granted through much effort. He really didn't expect Ed to be so heavy. "What the hell are you made of?! Lead?!"

"Shut up! It's not my fault you are so weak!" Edward shouted back, offended.

"I'm not weak! I just haven't done this before-" he yelped as a bullet scratched his elbow making him nearly drop Ed. 

"Oswald!" Edward shouted with a high shaky voice, but Oswald was still gripping him tightly. 

"They are shooting at us!" Oswald yelped as another bullet flew next to his ear.

"Then fly higher!" Edward demanded.

"I can't! Not with you anyways." He struggled to say as a bullet scratched his cheek.

Edward clicked his tongue and looked around. "There!" He moved his head towards a black car driving by a road near the asylum.

Oswald nodded as gracefully as he could right in front of the car. They nearly got run over but the driver managed to stop in time. While Oswald collected himself, Edward threw the driver out of the car and took his seat. "C'mon, Oswald!" He demanded too aggressively to the other's liking but Oswald still complied and took the backseat because of his wings.

Edward drove away like a madman making Oswald regret not sitting behind the wheel himself. "Are you ok?!" Edward asked and adjusted the mirror to look at him.

Oswald looked back at him and nodded. "I'm fine, just a few scratches." He wiped the blood off of his cheek. 

Edward laughed. "That was AMAZING, absolutely magnificent! I must say, I've always been a fan from following you through the news but that was just wow! Way beyond my expectations!" He gestured with his hands as his spoke.

Oswald wished he could say the compliment didn't affect him but that would be a lie. He smirked and puffed his chest before smirking. "Oh, that was nothing. Child's play. It's easier to deal with a prison than the people inside it."

"That I agree." Edward nodded with a mouthful. Somehow he had found a sucker which he was enjoying.

Oswald rolled his eyes before stealing the candy from his mouth. "Hey! I was sucking that!" Edward complained.

"Yes, I saw it." Oswald threw it out of the window. "Now, Edward Nygma, tell me, who really are you? Why were you sent to Arkham?"

Edward pouted and glared at Oswald for a moment before shrugging. "I killed a few people, including a cop, and I failed to shift the blame to someone else. They found out my medical history and that got me there."

Oswald hummed and leaned against the seat. "So you are a serial killer." He concluded.

Edward Scoffed. "No? The first person I killed was someone I loathed. A horrible waste of energy who didn't deserve his badge or his girlfriend. The second one was the person I loved the most. That one was an accident. We just weren't meant to be I suppose." He paused, likely remembering this woman. "The rest were to try and keep things quiet. You know." He shrugged.

"Yeah. I suppose I do." Oswald crossed his arms and looked out of the window at the vegetation that led back to his beloved Gotham. He couldn't believe they were free. "So, where are we going?" He looked Ed in the eyes through the mirror.

"To my apartment."

Oswald rolled his eyes. "That is the first place they will look for you."

"I know, but I need to get my equipment if I want to study you." Edward said nonchalantly.

Oswald blinked a few times and glared at him with surprise. "Pardon?"

"Relax, it won't be anything bad or creepy but I think we both want to know how a man survives a fall like the one you suffered and just grows wings the next day. Don't worry, I promised it won't hurt."

Oswald sunk into the seat. "Fine, whatever." He supposed Edward made sense and the sooner he got rid of the extra weight, the better. "Where are we going to go after?"

Edward took a moment to reply. "I don't know." He admitted. "Perhaps a shelter?"

Oswald shook his head immediately. "No, my mother owns an apartment. We can stay there for the time being. It's probably the safest bet since no one goes after a deadman."

Edward considered it for a moment before nodding. "That sounds good. She will also provide food, clothes and a much more secluded place. That sounds excellent actually." He smiled.

Oswald leaned against his hand as it rested against the door. "So I'm guessing your parents aren't from Gotham."

Edward's smile dropped and his eyes looked down. "No. They are not."

Oswald watched him for a moment before deciding to drop the subject. He was more interested in resting his eyes anyways.


End file.
